


Unspoken

by i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Assumptions, Dark fic, Developing Relationship, Everything Hurts, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rescue, Tony Needs a Hug, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole/pseuds/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony comes to Loki's rescue. Loki misreads his intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

_Now_

         Loki sat as if upon a throne in the dark room, illuminated by the light of the lamp above falling down across his pale features. The sockets of his eyes were deep in shadow when Tony saw him but the eyes themselves were open, cold and gleaming, the corners of his mouth and eyes quirked as if in remembrance of some private joke. Perhaps there was a joke. He was naked. When Tony entered the room, his smirk grew.

           _“Stark.”_  The word was spoken fondly, like a sigh. “What in  _all the hells of Niflheim_  are you doing here?”

*

_Before_

          He was drunk when it happened, and Loki—Loki was steel and glass and the heady taste of sweat and  _danger_  curling in his belly. Dimly, he remembered muttered words about  _getting a room_ , then not making it there and collapsing in a pile of limbs across a couch, being held by the throat, black eyes gleaming down at him. He remembered that he’d been worried, because—

          Loki’s grip was like a vice around his cock, breath hot and harsh against his thigh as the sorcerer struggled to catch his breath. His shoulders were heaving wretchedly, tears streaming from his eyes that he seemed to be unconscious of.

          “Are you okay—?” Tony gasped out, reaching down to stroke Loki’s shoulder.

          “It’s  _fine,_ ” Loki hissed. Then he was forcing his own head back down on Tony’s cock, one long hand guiding Tony’s hand to the back of his head, the muscles of his throat clenching down hard as Loki choked himself, wet gagging noises escaping his lips. _Are you sure,_ Tony remembered wanting to ask, but the words might have died in his throat as Loki slid down, all the way down.

*

_Now_

          “It must have been terribly difficult to make it all the way here with the repairs on the Bifrost yet to be completed.” Loki’s voice came to him sweetly, pitched like a lullaby. “Whatever could  _possibly_  have so inspired the great Midgardian champion to make such a long trek, I wonder?  _Sentiment,_ perhaps?” The word dripped like poison from his lip. “The oh-so-chivalrous masculine desire to save one whom he has taken to bed— _certainly_  without any hint of expectation of sweet-honeyed treasure to be opened to him in return propelling him on his way?”

          “Though,” he continued, quirking one eyebrow and indicating the ruin of his own body with an ironic glance and a pained, abortive jerk of his chin, “If that  _was_ your intention, Stark, this maiden would hasten to advise that you allow her time enough to restore her charms  _prior_ to taking your pleasure, lest your passion be chilled and your staff retreat in the face of such unloveliness.”

          _“Unless—!”_  he went on with a dramatic gasp, widening his eyes and leaning forward with difficulty against the thorned branches that bound him, drawing trickles of bright red new blood to drip down torn and bloodied flesh, “Unless it is precisely _that_ which fascinates you? The tears, the whimpers of sweet pain, the helpless trembling of one who cannot withstand you? Legs forced wide apart in unwilling, shamefully obscene display? I can do that too, Stark,” and Tony, feeling a little sick, thought he saw him shift as if in remembrance on the horrifyingly massive metal rod that had been forced deep into his bowels. He felt himself beginning to quail inside as Loki’s bloodshot eyes raked him up and down before the god threw his head back, heedless of the spikes that tore at the flesh of his throat, and began to laugh.

          “Oh,  _Stark!_  You  _do_  like that, don’t you!” And to Tony’s horror, he found that—fuck, oh  _fuck,_ Loki was  _right,_ shit, and his hands instinctively dropped to shield his groin. The god continued, eyes gleaming, “Like a boy on the training grounds who forever finds reasons to make the swords-master birch him. Never fear, good hero, I can give you what you seek.”

          Tony felt himself flush, a queasy lump rising in his throat. “NO! No. I don’t want—that.”

          “Don’t you? You are hardly the first and you won’t be the last.” Loki ducked his head and smiled at him comfortingly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just—come, unfasten me, and I will help you. Don’t worry.” The mockery had disappeared from Loki’s voice so suddenly it left Tony reeling. In its place was a soft, coaxing tone, as if Tony was a skittish colt the god was trying to gentle. “You dear, sweet thing. Just let me go, and I will help you realize things you never would have dreamed were possible.”

          The words, the madness in Loki’s eyes, left him nauseated.  _“No._ No, Loki, that’s not why I came.”

          “What?” Those terrible eyes fixed upon him, pupils hardly visible within the sclera bled through with bright red crimson from tiny tubular blood vessels bursting below the conjunctiva.  _“No._  No, you cannot. No.  _Why?!”_  The voice rose to a hoarse shriek, the creature who had grinned up at Tony and snuggled himself into his arms just before the rising of the dawn thrashing in his bonds like an epileptic, foamed pink spit flying, heedless as dreadful thorns tore open blood-perfused muscle. “Did I not please you when we coupled?!”

          “That’s not what I— I came here to get you out! I don’t want anything in return!”

          “Is  _that_ so?” And suddenly that sweet, sighing sing-song was back as if it had never gone, thin lips quirked upwards, wrinkling the corners of blood-filled eyes that sparkled with glee. A long, wicked spike had disappeared into Loki’s flesh, piercing in below his clavicle, and it tracked inexorably further inwards as Loki leaned forward, smile growing cruel as blood pricked down his chest. “And the lovely hero even appears to think himself  _sincere._  So you  _are_ a man of sentiment.” The voice dropped to a low, vicious hiss. “You are a fool, Anthony Stark. An utter fool with bells dangling from your idiot’s hat, japing about the courts of those more capable than you.”

          “Be that as it may,” Tony snapped, in anger and in hurt, bile churning in his gut as he stepped over and began to dismantle the apparatus holding Loki prisoner, “I’m still not going to hurt you.”

          “Oh, Stark, you ought to _live_  a little more.” Loki crooned, taunting, blooded eyes tracking his every movement, lines around his mouth and eyes tightening in pain as the twisted, spiked branches were cut and pulled away by force, bringing threads of torn flesh along with them. “Enjoy having your enemies laid low before you. Break them so grotesquely that none ever think of opposing you again. You Midgardians do  _excel_  so at that sport, after all. I witnessed this one once, have you heard of it? The condemned is made to lie upon a wagon wheel, and a hammer is taken to the limbs at the gaps between the spokes, so that the shattered limbs of the living victim may be  _woven—”_

          _“Stop.”_ Tony stopped to wipe his mouth, grimacing at the disgusting words. “Loki. I wouldn’t do that. It’s horrifying.”

           _“Wouldn’t you, little mortal?”_

          “I  _wouldn’t!”_ He was sickened. Loki made a ghastly noise as spikes were torn from his body, carrying with them remnants of scabbed, healing flesh. “It’s an involuntary reaction. There’s a huge difference between that and— _what you were talking about._  Good  _grief,_ Loki, if it was that bad for you, I’m sorry—I mean, I _asked,_  and you  _said…”_

          “Maybe I  _lied,”_ Loki hissed, “Maybe I hate you. Maybe  _this_ is an illusion intended to snare your sympathy.  _Never_  trust a monster, Stark. If you had even the minutest fraction of the brain my idiot brother lauds you for, you would have turned away and left me here.”

          He was down to the last of the thorns, which he tried to ease out as gently as possible, watching blood pulse out of innumerable puncture wounds as he withdrew the spikes that kept them open. _“Loki—_ First of all, I have a great deal of trouble believing that anyone is a monster unless they actually  _choose_ to become one."

At long last, the thorns were fully gone, leaving only one more spike to take care of. Tony braced his feet, squaring himself, and wrapped his arms around Loki’s middle, around the bruised, punctured, tormented flesh. “Ready? One, two, three…”

          The wretched creature still howled in pain when Tony lifted him, and then collapsed when he tried to set him down, unable to keep his legs under him. Tony picked up one of Loki’s arms and hauled it over his shoulder, bracing under the bulk of Loki’s weight as the god staggered, trying to get his feet under him.

          “Second off,” Tony panted, “You didn’t  _want_ me to leave you here. It sounds like that means that you trust me enough, at least right now, to be assuming that even if you yell at me, I’m still not going to leave you here. Which I _won't._ I couldn't. I’m very touched.”

          “I will betray you, Stark,” Loki gasped, clinging to his shoulder, nearly bringing them both crashing to the floor when he slipped in his own blood. Something was wrong with his hips—the ball of the joint not seeming to want to rotate in the bony, concave acetabulum of his pelvis. The knees were not fully extending, and as Loki scrambled jerkily for purchase, it looked like he was having trouble feeling or moving his feet. He was covered in old sweat, blood, and dried vomit, and up close he absolutely  _stank._ New blood was dripping down his body from a thousand tears in his flesh. “I will betray you,” Loki panted, “And when you lie choking to death in your own blood, you will curse your sheer idiocy for ever having thought to pity me.”

          “I’m not here because I pity you,” Tony gritted out, putting his weight under Loki’s shoulder and turning them with great difficulty to shuffle towards the door where Thor waited down the hall to fly them out, feeling warm tears and snot drip onto his shoulder as wracking sobs began to shake the ribs of the creature beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> The conjunctiva is the transparent membrane covering the outside of the sclera (white part) of the eye. Loki's eye condition is called a subconjunctival hemorrhage, caused by blood vessels in the conjunctiva bursting and leaking blood into the space between the membrane and the sclera. It can be induced by, among other things, eye trauma, severe vomiting, choking, or coughing, and various head injuries. The google image results for it are terrifying.
> 
> The acetabulum is the bit of the pelvis where the head of the femur (the ball) joins to form the hip.
> 
> Anatomy makes me queasy, but I'll take it over all these emotional issues.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as happygutters.


End file.
